


fools

by orphan_account



Category: Cookie Run (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Hurt, M/M, Pain, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-11 01:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16466369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: last fic in this fandom. unfinished.





	fools

The first time Herb met Adventurer, he was drawn into him, despite his obvious flaws and bad flirts, He was insulting the bartender, slamming bottles on the heads anyone who disagreed with him, and yelling at everyone and bragging about his accomplishments. Yet he charmed Herb, with his sweet compliments, his dry humour, and the way he’d give that half lidded, seductive look to him. They talked at the bar for what felt like hours, laughing at what they were saying. He wondered why they never met earlier, considering that they both had been going to the bar every night for the past year. He decided that maybe god, if there was one at least, had been waiting for the right moment to let them find each other.

When they walked out of that bar, both of them taking out cigarettes and breathing out the bitter, dark smoke as they sat on the concrete stairs, staring at each other, talking about how cruel and ugly the world was, Herb fell into his world. He was in deep, and as he looked at Adventurer’s eyes, he saw a melancholy and fatigue that he could relate to. They were both alike in that way; they hid something from others, presenting themselves as something they’re not. They were both just broken souls living in a broken world, lost, shattered, yet somehow free. Herb had his first, genuine kiss that night. One that finally wasn’t just from a random girl or when he was drunk. A real, raw kiss, with a bittersweet aftertaste. 

When Adventurer dragged him into a bathroom of a party, loud music faded in the background, lights dimmed into colors of red, blue, and green, pushing him onto a wall and smashing his lips on his own, Herb thought that he was the one, the only one who could truly understand why. He had found someone to love in this terrible world. His arms were snaked around the other’s neck, his nails dug into his back, his shirt was unbuttoned and slipping off. And when Adventurer ran a hand through his leaves, licking the hidden piercings on his ears, other hand on hips, Herb was in a euphoria he would not ever dare to escape. His only thoughts were about his Addie, his. He was Adventurer’s, and that’s all that mattered to him. If the world was going to kick him, he’d kick them back with his boyfriend, his lover, his partner.

He loved the smokes they had together, whether in their room or outside of his apartment or in the bathrooms of parties or bars. The smoke would char his lungs, coat them with tar, making him unable to breathe. His pupils would dilate, he would get dizzy and foggy yet also more conscious than he’d ever been in his life. And with his lover he could forget about everything about the world. He would lean onto his shoulder and huff out the smoke, and let out a very rare smile. Adventurer would follow with an even rarer smile, and would gently kiss his forehead. It was all so perfect, so absolutely perfect. It was disgusting yet loving, not ideal for any normal, sane. It was exactly what they needed.

Herb would rant to Adventurer about how terrible his life was when he was smoking or drinking. He would talk about how he was getting a Herbology degree, yet he couldn’t even afford it without working at the worst job of his life. He hated working as a barista, pretending to be this happy, bashful, and shy person who only thought in rainbows and unicorns. Yet it wasn’t like he could exactly change it. It was the identity most liked by others. It was what most people assumed he truly was. Even the people at the bar thought he was like that, and that he just happened to like the taste of alcohol when really, he only liked how it made him dizzy and nauseous. 

Did people actually want to know about the real him, the one who got high during breaks at work, who would sneak out to parties and get drunk until he passes out? Who hid his own inner pain by hooking up with random men, who would get piercings and tattoos in areas people couldn't see unless he took off his clothes? Who broke multiple laws in one night, who learned how to steal and barter just because he could? Who was wretched, wired, and nihilistic? He assumed people wouldn’t even talk to him if he was like that. He was crazy, after all. Insane. And he can't change that.

The only one who he felt wanted to know the real him was Adventurer, who not only admired the real him, especially when he was dry and sarcastic, but also related to it. Despite pretending to be suave and seductive, there were secrets that he himself hid from others. He may have been young but he felt old, like he had lived a million years and still wasn’t satisfied yet. He would tell Herb about his terrible actions, ones he did in the past, how it haunts his life and breaks him on the inside. How every time he’d smoke, he forgot about the people he hurt, the people who hurt him, the person he was and could be again. “You might leave me one day”, he said, throwing a cigarette butt on the ground. He sounded confident in his answer, like it was simply bound to happen.

“I’ll never leave you”, Herb told to him through a huff of smoke,, though the back of his mind was screaming at him, saying that Adventurer was dangerous, that something was wrong. He should be running right now. Everything Adventurer told him was not normal, it wasn’t safe. He wasn’t safe. He was in danger. Yet, he looked into the eyes of Adventurer and saw the same, dispelled, faded look that he always saw in him. He still could feel his hand holding his own. Nothing really changed, he told himself, they just got to know each other more. They were still lovers, and Adventurer was only opening up to him. That’s all. This was normal.

This was love, right? Love was this. Nothing else could be love.

Things started shifting quickly after that. Three months into their relationship, Herb could tell that things were starting to go off. Adventurer would leave at random times, saying that he was busy or had something to do. When he came back from these supposed important times, he'd be wasted, high, or close to passing out. He’d have marks on his skin, stains on his clothes, the stench of alcohol, weed, cigarette smoke washing over him. He’d have bruises around his lips, neck, and chest. And he’d only smile at Herb with that seductive smile of his and pretend that everything was normal. That this whole entire thing was normal.

He became more possessive of Herb, choking, strangling, punching anyone who'd even look at him in a different way. He would stop taking Herb to the bar or any parties because he was scared of someone flirting with him. He controlled where Herb went to make sure no one else was talking to him. He forced Herb to quit his job after snapping at his coworker who was only trying to talk to him. He was lucky that he was taking his degree online, or else Adventurer would have forced him to stop going to school as well.

Herb had smashed bottles in his apartment, cuts of colored glass spewed everywhere, bruises and marks on his skin, the constant taste of blood in his mouth, metallic and bitter. Adventurer was becoming angrier, crazier every day. He let his anger out on the only other person who was consistently in his life. It was worse when he was drunk. It started happening everyday. He could not escape from the terror, the fear.

Still, he stayed. For still, he believed this was love. Love was this.

He still believed that deep down, Adventurer was still like him. He was just broken like him. That there were demons in him that made him the way he was, even if it meant that he could sometimes be violent and terrifying. He would still hug him and kiss him and say “I love you” and take him out to dates. He would apologize everytime he hurt him. It was still all normal, even if Herb had to hide his bruises and cuts, or had to dispel his belief everytime Adventurer said he wouldn’t do it again. It was all. Ok. He only hurt him when he was drunk. He’s not a bad person. It’s ok. 

He was alone in his apartment, nothing to do. He sat on the couch, scrolling through channel after channel on his TV. He was a mess, his clothes teared, hair tousled. His eyes were red and swollen, and on the floor was a spilled bong, packets of weed spread everywhere. This was ok. His life was fine. Getting high for the third time that day was normal. It was.

Adventurer burst through the door, his eyes wide and bloodshot. He was gripping a knife in his hand, rusted yet sharp, covered in thick, red liquid. His shirt was ripped to the point of no repair, his jeans stained with red. He went up to Herb and grabbed his shoulders, his hands sticky and wet. He was breathing heavily, his vision dazed, his legs shaking. His hat was gone. He looked more older than he ever had before. 

“We need to get out of here. We need to get the hell out of here.” He grabbed Herb’s hands and pulled him up. “Come on, snap out of it!” He looked down on the floor and sighed deeply. “Why did you get into the cabinet. I told you not to touch it, asshole. That shit in there is too strong. What the hell is wrong with you.” Herb felt a sharp sting on his cheeks, and finally he gained back his conscious. He was set back in his reality, his vulnerability. He looked back up at Adventurer, desperately trying to hide his tears. He failed. 

“What’s happening?”, he asked, his voice quiet and soft. He didn’t dare raise his voice. He knew what would happen if he did. 

“Doesn’t matter. Just come with me, sweetheart.” His voice was rough, yet the use of his nickname soothed him a bit. Only a little bit. Herb nodded. “We have no time to pack. We just have to go.”

Herb quickly grabbed a bag filled with his vitals, and took Adventurer’s hand. They both ran out of his apartment and out the door. Adventurer’s hand was sweating, and Herb was breathing heavily. He didn’t know where they were going, as Adventurer was the one leading him. They were out of their apartment building, and he brought them out to the back. Herb was suddenly shoved into the passenger seat of a car, one that he didn’t even recognize. Adventurer rushed into the driver seat, and wordlessly hit the gas and drove. He was driving fast, without even thinking about the risks of his actions. As he did he started to give context about what happened.

“This guy, drunk or high beyond belief, lord knows what he was even on at that point, he looked like a mess, tried to jump on me while I was getting our usual shit. I punched him, and soon we were fighting right there. I was in an alleyway where no goddamn person could see me, yet this guy seemed to have a groupie, cause more people started to gang up on me. I fought all of em, but they were too many people. I ran before they could catch me, but one of them trapped me. I wasn’t thinking, I swear I wasn’t thinking. I just needed to get out of there.”

Adventurer took in a deep breath. Herb realized what he was feeling. Fear. He never, ever in their relationship saw him have even an ounce of fear. Yet, he was shaking just like Herb. His breath was shallow. His eyes darted everywhere frantically. And Herb wondered what he had done. It was something so bad that even Adventurer, the bravest and strongest man he knew, was sitting there acting like a coward.

**Author's Note:**

> i’m probably never going to write CR fan fiction after this, and i’m going to orphan this fic about a week after posting it.
> 
> it was fun while it lasted.


End file.
